


Do you Feel a Comma in your Heart?

by kitchournas



Series: Translator AU [1]
Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Also they're all nerds, Alternate Universe - Office, M/M, Marti was in a bad relationship which is mentioned once, Martino is a translator, Nico is a proofer, Office Romance, Overly optimistic representation of office life, The Translator AU nobody asked for, They are all in their late twenties, This is so specific what am I doing, because this is how I cope, everybody else is either a proofer a translator or a project manager, tiny miscommunication, working for a subtitling company
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-10-29 14:55:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17810084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitchournas/pseuds/kitchournas
Summary: Martino is a professional, somewhat experienced, translator. He's worked with all kinds of proofers before, and it's mostly gone well. And then, he's introduced to the new proofer who is working with him on his latest project and has got green eyes, an infectious smile and opinions on the proper use of commas.





	Do you Feel a Comma in your Heart?

**Author's Note:**

> Title from[ this amazing tweet](https://twitter.com/ka_waltz/status/1022172154056458241).

Martino is replaying the same section of the video for the third time for Elia. When the video stops, Elia removes the headset and stands up, a frown on his face.

“What the fuck? Is that a name he’s saying?”

“I don’t know,” Martino wants to scream in frustration. He has played the sentence over ten times and yet he still cannot begin to fathom what the speaker is saying. “I think so. It sounds like it should be a name, but he stammers and he lowers his voice too much and I can’t even figure out how it starts.”

Because Martino’s desk faces the window and not the door of his and Elia’s shared office, when Filippo’s head appears in the doorway and he calls out, “Hey, guys,” they both startle and turn around. It’s a good thing that Martino is not a jumpy guy and that Elia usually signals when somebody is approaching or it would happen a lot.

“Hey, Filippo. Want to lend your ears?” Elia asks, holding out the headset.

“Not right now. I need Martino first for a minute.”

“Sure, coming. Thanks, man, and don’t worry about it, I’ll figure it out. Maybe. I hope,” Martino assures Elia, who ignores him and puts the headset back on to replay the video.

They head to Filippo’s office where Giovanni is waiting with another guy Martino has never seen in his life. He has dark messy hair, a wide smile and a sort of incredible ease to him that makes it very hard to tear his eyes away from him. He doesn’t have to wonder about him for long, as Filippo immediately introduces him.

“Marti, you weren’t there last week, so I don’t think you’ve met, but that’s Niccolò, he’s the new proofer. That’s Martino, our other translator, he works with Elia.”

Niccolò gives him a little wave.

"Nice to meet you."

“You, too," Martino replies with a nod. "And thank God, we’ve been begging for another proofer for ages."

“Yeah, Eva and I had to split all the files that Sana couldn’t get through, or these guys would proof each other’s files when they could, but you’re a lifesaver,” Giovanni confirms, and Martino knows he must be incredibly relieved to be rid of his proofing duties which he had to juggle in addition to all the work he already has to take care of as project manager.

“Glad I can help,” Niccolò simply says, instilling an inordinate amount of sincerity in the four simple words.

“So, this afternoon, we’re getting a new project for the scientific institute,” Filippo announces. “What are you working on right now, Marti?”

“One of the videos on astronomy, but I think it’s not that urgent, right?”

He turns to Giovanni for confirmation.

“No, there’s no rush. It’s due next month. And it’s in Italian, so Luca or Silvia can help with that if need be.”

“Okay, good. We’re gonna receive about seven and a half hours on geology due on March 15th. Is that doable for you, Martino?”

Martino glances at the calendar that is hanging by Filippo’s desk.

“Four weeks? Sure. As long as there’s nothing else to do.”

“There shouldn’t be, or not until next week and nothing too urgent,” Gio chimes in.

“And if it’s too short, let us know, and we’ll see if Elia can take some, or even Gio and Eva,” Filippo adds.

“I will. But it should be fine.”

Niccolò has been quietly following the exchange so far and now Filippo turns to him.

“Sana showed you the software and the project specs?”

“She did. It’s a bit new, but I’m getting there.”

“Good. If you have any questions, feel free to ask her, or Gio or Martino. When Marti posts his files, you’ll prioritize them.”

“Okay, no problem.”

“Thanks, guys,” Filippo concludes, and like that, the impromptu meeting is over.

Outside the office, Gio disappears back to his desk to deal with clients, and Martino turns to Niccolò.

“We’re throwing you right into the deep end, aren’t we? We’re not very good at taking things easy here.”

Niccolò laughs

“I don’t mind. It’s the best way to learn, isn’t it?”

“I guess. But Filippo’s right, if you have any questions, don’t hesitate. I know the specs can be a little confusing.”

“Thank you, Marti.”

He’s looking straight at Martino with warm, friendly eyes and a grateful smile and Martino tries to keep his composure. He’s a professional and swooning at the new proofer who he’s met all of five minutes ago is certainly not professional.

“Oh, by the way, we’ve done other projects for this institute, so we’ve made a glossary of recurring terms. I’ll send it to you. What’s your last name, so I can find your email?”

“It’s Fares.”

“Okay.”

They stand in silence for a second too long before Marti clears his throat and points towards his office.

“Well, I should get back.”

“Right. See you later, then.”

He finds Elia back at his own desk with a triumphant grin on his face.

“Marti, I got it. I got the name. It’s Tycho Brahe,” he announces triumphantly.

“Wow, I’m impressed. How did you get that?”

Sitting up as straight as he can, Elia points to the headset covering his ears.

“The hearing of a wolf, Marti. Of a wolf.”

 

At lunchtime, Martino is the first to get to the cafeteria. Everybody else has gone out to buy food but he has some leftover Thai takeout from last night that is now heating up in the old microwave. He is mindlessly spinning one of the handles of the foosball table as a whiff of his lunch reaches him, making his stomach growl, when the door opens and Niccolò comes in.

“Hey, Marti.”

“Hey!”

It comes out more enthusiastically than Martino was aiming for and he chides himself to play it cool when the microwave dings, saving him from potentially embarrassing himself. The smell of green curry fills the room and Niccolò looks on with interest.

“Did you cook that yourself?”

“No, no, I’m not that good. I just got really lazy last night and ordered Thai food.”

“I can’t judge you for that,” Niccolò replies while holding out the ready-made lasagna he’s about to slip into the microwave. “I’m not exactly a great cook.”

Martino smiles in answer and takes one of the usually disputed seats on the couch. It’s not that he doesn’t want to keep talking to Niccolò, on the contrary, it’s just that he has no idea how. He hasn’t really been attracted to anybody since his relationship with Gianluca fell apart in his last year of college and there’s something about Niccolò’s presence that leaves him completely tongue-tied. Luckily, Niccolò doesn’t seem to have the same problem.

“How long have you been working here?”

“Oh, it’s been…” He thinks about it for a second, “Wow, almost three years. Since I graduated.”

“And where did you study?”

“In Rome. Gio, Eva, Elia and I were all in the same class.”

“And you really sticked together, huh?”

“Well, Filippo hires only the best. How about you?”

“I studied in Milan. But I missed Rome, so I was really glad when Sana told me you guys were hiring.”

“Oh, you know Sana?”

“I was friends with her brother when we were younger. A few years ago, she got in touch with me when she decided to study translation. And then, we just... stayed in touch.”

“I can’t imagine what Sana was like when she was younger.”

Niccolò retrieves his food from the microwave and takes a seat next to Martino.

“Pretty much the same. She was just as terrifying as an eight-year-old,” he teases.

“I’m willing to believe that.”

Martino doesn’t get a chance, however, to inquire more into the adventures of young Sana and Niccolò, as the others come back, and the noise as they find seats, bicker and unpack their food quickly makes any conversation practically impossible. Sana slides onto the couch next to Niccolò who shuffles closer to Martino with a completely unnecessarily apologetic look. Federica from IT is here with her perpetually terrified-looking intern, whose name nobody has managed to catch. Luca and Silvia, two of the closed-captioners, who are even more inseparable than Gio and Eva, sit next to Eleonora, their project manager. Gio, Eva and Elia squeeze in next to them and Filippo has to drag a chair over from his office to find a place for himself. Over lunch, Niccolò gets bombarded with questions from everybody, and Martino is content to sit next to him and listen to his answers. He also gets roped into the usual post-lunch foosball game, and he and Eva absolutely destroy Luca and Elia. While they’re still playing, Martino makes himself a coffee and heads back to the office to try to get as much of his file done before the videos for the geological project are uploaded to their server. As he closes the door behind him, he catches Niccolò’s eyes while he is high-fiving Eva, and he can’t help but smile back.

 

Martino has been working on this MOOC for less than twenty four hours, and he is already sick of it. Ever since they started working for this scientific institute, they have had to suffer through Italian scientists butchering the English language while discussing things that go way over the heads of any of the linguists in their department. His first video was not so bad, so he managed to finish it and post it this morning, but the second one is much more technical and the professor presenting it much less articulate. Scrolling through poorly written and barely understandable scientific articles, he is trying to find a term he needs when there is a knock at the door. It is Niccolò, sporting his seemingly ever-present smile.

“Hey, sorry to bother you.”

“Oh, my God, not at all. This is driving me insane, you’re saving me.”

Martino is secretly glad that Elia is not here today because he would probably have had a field day picking apart the last part of his sentence. Niccolò, at least, doesn’t comment but simply looks curious.

“Is it one of the geology videos?”

“Yes, and it’s the worst, you’ll see.”

“That’s what I wanted to ask you about, actually.”

“Oh, sure.”

He turns his chair around to face Niccolò and enjoy a chance to stare at something other than rocks for a few minutes.

“I’m working on your first video and at one point, the speaker says ‘monzonite’, but you wrote ‘monzogranite’, was that on purpose?”

The video is still fresh enough in Martino’s mind that he remembers what he is referring to.

“Right. Maybe I should have told you. She says ‘monzonite’, but I checked because it didn’t fit with something she says later in the video and I think she just misspoke. It should be ‘monzogranite’, so I changed it.”

“Oh, okay. That makes sense.”

He thinks about it for a second before adding,

“So, if the speaker says something you know is wrong, you can change it?”

“Yeah, we usually do. I mean, we can’t fact check everything but if we’re sure, we do. Same thing for any grammar mistakes, we’d correct them.”

“Right. Wouldn’t want to have grammatically incorrect subtitles.”

“No, we really wouldn’t. That wouldn’t be good for our brand. And Filippo cares a lot about our brand.”

“Well, thanks, I’ll let you get back to it.”

Martino lets out an exaggerated sigh as he glances at his screen in despair, and Niccolò laughs.

“Good luck with that, then.”

“Thanks, you too.”

 

Nico quickly takes to stopping by at least once a day after that. Sometimes, he does have a question about a term Martino used, his phrasing or grammar, sometimes he comes to complain about the professors from the MOOC. Marti is always happy to join in in those cases. He usually sticks around and chats with both of them for a couple of minutes or longer. At lunch, somehow and more often than not, they end up sitting next to or opposite each other. That he was handsome and charismatic, Martino already knew, but what he learns over the course of their conversations is that he is also wickedly funny, smart, artistic, incredibly cultured, although in seemingly very specific areas, and Martino falls a little more every day.

On the Monday of their second week on the geological project, Nico doesn’t come in to work and Filippo just tells them that he called in sick. If he knows anything more, he is discreet enough to keep it to himself. The next day, Niccolò is back but looking tired and more subdued than usual. He knocks on the door halfway through Tuesday morning because he accidentally deleted Martino’s file from the platform where it had been uploaded. He apologizes multiple times despite both Martino’s and Elia’s assurances that it has happened and sometimes still happens to everybody who has ever worked here. Something doesn’t feel right about seeing him without his usual grin, and Martino tries to joke about the situation but he only gets the barest hint of a smile before Niccolò disappears back into his and Sana’s office. He is not here at lunch and neither is Sana, and Martino tries very hard not to let it bother him. He doesn’t even know which part should bother him, that Niccolò looks like he’s not doing well or that there is every chance he’s with Sana. Ignoring what either of these could mean, he turns to Silvia who is sitting next to him.

“Sana isn’t here?”

“No, she and Nico are having lunch out today,” Silvia explains, without commenting any further, which Martino would have appreciated on any other day.

“Oh,” is the only answer he can muster.

Which part bothers him more doesn’t really matter anymore, all he knows is that the whole thing weighs heavily in his gut. As he turns away from Silvia, who has gone back to her conversation with Federica, he meets the eyes of Eva and Eleonora who are sitting on the other side of the table and giving him twin smirks. Martino ignores them and turns the other way, to Luca who will happily tell him about the latest improbable plot twist in the soap opera he’s working on. Niccolò skips a couple more lunches, once with Sana, once without her, but he seems almost like himself again by the end of the week. At lunch on Friday, he squeezes in on the couch next to Martino, and nobody fights him for the spot. He doesn’t talk much but still follows the conversations around him with clear interest. When everybody else is engrossed in their topics of choice, Martino leans towards him to ask quietly,

“Everything okay?”

Nico gives him what seems like a surprised glance, which quickly turns into a good enough approximation of his trademark smile.

“Just one of those weeks, you know. But it’s getting better. I’ll be fine.”

“That’s good. You’ve got any plans for the weekend?”

They make quiet and superficial conversation until people start heading back to work. Marti is about to follow when he feels Niccolò bump his shoulder into his. At his questioning look, Nico looks at him fondly and whispers, “Thank you, Marti,” before standing up and heading out of the cafeteria.

 

On Wednesday, the following week, Niccolò comes in with a small smile on his face, settles himself against the wall next to Martino’s desk, waits until he has his total attention and levels a look at him.

“You sure like your commas, don’t you?”

Elia, who Martino had not even realized was listening, chuckles.

“Told you.”

“What’s wrong with my commas?”

“Well, there’s a lot of them,” Niccolò states.

For once, luck is somewhat on Marti’s side as Elia is working on an urgent redelivery and can’t take Nico’s side in this conversation.

“There’s a normal amount of them.”

“That’s too many commas, Marti. You gotta leave some for the rest of us.”

“I know how to use punctuation.”

Niccolò only looks more amused at Martino’s defensive tone.

“Didn’t say you didn’t. You’re just… overly enthusiastic sometimes.”

Martino is completely torn between a strong desire to defend his use of commas and an equally strong desire to kiss that cocky look off his face. He’s not very proud of that instinct.

“Says who?” Is what he settles for in the end.

“La Crusca?”

“Okay, so where? Which commas are you contesting? Show me evidence.”

“Sure, come over at my desk, I’ll show you many, many examples, if you have a few hours to spare.”

“Well, not really actually. See, there’s this MOOC about rocks we’re both supposed to work on...”

“So you’re admitting defeat, then?”

“No, I’m admitting I have a lot of work to do, and I don’t have time for your groundless accusations.”

“Sure. You tell yourself that.”

As he’s about to head out the door, he leans back towards Martino and lowering his voice, adds,

“But put some commas back, okay?”

Martino is still a professional and he manages to resist the urge to flip him off. When he turns back to his computer, however, he can see that on the other side of the two desks, Elia is looking at him and shaking his head like a disappointed parent. Martino gives him a questioning look, which is only answered by a long-suffering sigh as Elia turns his attention back to his screen.

 

The very next day, in the afternoon, Giovanni, Elia and Luca corner him at the coffee machine.

“So. Nico,” is the only warning he gets before they’re surrounding him in the middle of a very frequented hallway.

“What, Nico?”

Whatever they think they know about Nico, Martino is certainly not going to give them the pleasure of admitting anything. Sure, Martino has accepted by now that he has a crush on him, but it’s probably nothing. And sure, sometimes, it really looks like Nico may be flirting with him or looking at him with a particular intensity. But he’s a warm person and friendly with everybody, and it might not mean anything.

“We know you like him,” Luca kicks off, never one for beating around the bush.

“Really, where do you get that from?” Martino replies, more out of a habit of denying that there is anything going on with him than of conviction.

“From that look on your face anytime he’s in the room, you moron,” Elia shoots back.

He has only minor control over his facial expressions, so he can’t exactly deny that. Elia takes advantage of his silence to continue.

“He comes around a lot, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah, I don’t think Eva and I or even Sana ever had that many questions about your work.”

“He’s new! Of course he’s got questions,” Martino tries, even though he will be the first to admit that it sounds like a pretty weak defense.

“And telling you that you use too many commas? Everybody knows that, that didn’t warrant a visit,” Giovanni insists.

Martino glares at Elia.

“You told them that? Hang on, you talked about it behind my back?”

“Well, you’re clearly in denial, so we weren’t going to talk about it with you.”

“I’m not in denial.”

“He always sits next to you at lunch,” Luca points out.

“Well, we’re usually the first ones to get to the cafeteria…”

Giovanni takes him by the shoulder and looks him right in the eye.

“Marti. Nico’s not Gianluca, okay? Gianluca was a dick, and he played with you, but Nico seems like a good guy. At least Sana’s ready to vouch for him, and I think we can all agree that you can trust her judgment. And he’s flirting with you, anybody here can tell you that. So if you like him, you should maybe at least give it a try.”

Martino knows perfectly well that Giovanni is right, and everybody loves to remind him that Gianluca dumped him almost four years ago and that he should get over it. In fact, he has tried to get over it, he’s actively worked at it, but it’s not his fault that nobody else had caught his eye until Niccolò. And only now that there is a chance Niccolò may feel the same does he realize that he may not be as over it as he thought. Luca and Elia are nodding along but at least they’re letting him think about it instead of asking questions.

“I know,” he finally says, which gets him satisfied grins and a clap on the back. He is starting to hope he might finally escape this conversation unscathed when Filippo suddenly appears from another hallway. He doesn’t beat around the bush either.

“So, how about the new proofer? How do you like him?”

He’s clearly only addressing Martino, who refuses to be baited.

“He seems very good at his job,” he replies, and he's fully aware that his tone may sound a little childish.

Martino knew the second he ended up face to face with Filippo in the Gay Street at 1 on a very early Sunday morning and drunk out of his mind that it was going to come back to bite him in the ass one day. He was not expecting it to happen with three other witnesses in front of the coffee machine which is the meeting point of all neighboring departments. Luck is once again on his side, though, because it is the appearance of Niccolò himself flanked by Sana and Eleonora which saves him from having to stand another round of questions. As the others exchange greetings, he grabs his coffee as soon as he can, and disappears back into his office, where it’s only him and dull scientists rambling on about rocks who do not talk to him about his love life.

 

It is the start of week four when Martino slams his headset down on the desk with probably more force than necessary. Elia looks up from his screen and puts on his most sympathetic expression.

“Is it the scientists again?”

“Why do they insist on doing these in English if none of their professors can actually speak it correctly?”

It’s a familiar complaint around the office, but Martino never gets tired of voicing it and will continue to voice it until he is given a proper answer.

“Because they hate us, Marti. They hate translators, and they enjoy knowing that we suffer.”

Martino nods his head in agreement.

“Right? It has to be.”

“It’s not the headphones’ fault, though. Fede’s not going to like it if you break another set.”

“Well something has to pay if Gio won’t let me ask them directly,” Martino shrugs. “And Fede likes me, she won’t be mad.”

“Yeah, she likes you alright,” Elia scoffs.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, I know that you know it, she’s not been exactly subtle. You’re too popular for your own good, man.”

A knock on the door thankfully interrupts them. Of course, it’s Niccolò.

“Hey, guys.”

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I think there’s a mix-up in the glossary. There’s a couple of terms that don’t seem to match.”

“What? Hang on, let me take a look.”

He switches to the right tab, and starts scrolling through the shared spreadsheet.

“Which ones?”

Nico steps closer and starts reading over his shoulder, which Martino is trying really hard not to find distracting. He’s also trying really hard not to meet Elia’s eyes who must be enjoying the show.

“Scroll down a little more… Right here. See? These don’t match.”

When he looks at where Nico is pointing, Martino’s focus immediately switches back to the glossary.

“Shit, you’re right, those are wrong.”

Comparing the two columns of terms, he realizes what must have happened.

“I’m an idiot. I deleted a line earlier, and I must have messed up when I pasted some terms after that. Sorry, I’ll fix it.”

“It’s not a big deal, I just had a feeling the translations for metapelite and metatexis looked a little weird.”

“Thanks for telling me. This thing is getting so long, it’s all a blur.”

“No worries. It must be distracting, being so popular,” he adds mischievously.

Elia raises his hand for a high-five at that, and Nico happily complies before walking out with a shit-eating grin.

“Speaking of people who like you…” Elia starts about three seconds after he’s out the door.

“Shut up,” Martino cuts him off, purposefully putting his headphones back on.

 

By mid-afternoon on March 13th, Martino uploads the last file for the geology course. When he hears about it, Elia gives him a fist bump and congratulates him on surviving yet another round of pretending to care about rocks. Martino gives a quick bow before heading to the project managers’ office. He finds Niccolò standing by Giovanni’s desk as the latter is examining something on his screen. When he sees him come in, Gio looks up.

“Hey, Marti! What’s up?”

Martino looks between him and Nico and is ready to walk back out.

“I can come back later if you’re busy.”

“No, no, go ahead.”

Niccolò doesn’t seem to mind, so he starts explaining,

“I’m done with the MOOC...”

He’s interrupted before he can even finish his sentence as Gio and Eva, who is occupying the other desk in the room, both simultaneously cheer. Niccolò looks about as surprised as he is but seems to find the whole thing more hilarious than embarrassing.

“See, that’s why we keep you around. You’re the best.”

And then, to Martino’s utter mortification, Giovanni turns to address Nico.

“Isn’t he the best?”

Now, Giovanni may be his best friend, but Martino would gladly kill him with both hands right this minute. Eva suddenly disappears behind her computer screen, stifling her laughter. The problem with Giovanni is that he has always been way too transparent. When he had tried to hide things from Eva their second year of college, it had all ended in tears. It had taken them years of rebuilding trust before they got back together. And sure, he also really enjoys singing Martino’s praises to anybody who happens to be in the room, but there’s no way Nico doesn’t know what he’s doing. What Martino doesn’t expect is for Niccolò to look at him straight in the eye and to repeat, “Sure. The best.” He is finding it hard to look away until he remembers they have a probably delighted audience who will never let him live it down, and that he came here with a purpose in mind. He shakes himself off to remember his original point.

“Yeah, so, I’m done. Do you have more stuff I can take on?”

Giovanni looks through a few files strewn around his desk while humming thoughtfully.

“Not much, but I think Eva’s got some files to assign, right?”

“Sure, Marti, come over here, you can even pick which you prefer. Because you’re _so good._ ”

Sometimes Martino wishes he had better friends who could answer a question straightforwardly and just do their jobs. He pinches her discreetly as he comes to stand behind her, and she shoves him back playfully. She assigns him a couple of teasers for upcoming MOOCs and a few educational videos on gender roles to tide him over until the next big project. When she’s done, Nico is gone, so Martino shakes his head at them both and leaves the office with a “I hate you” that only draws more laughter.

 

When Gio comes in on the following Friday afternoon, he has the same defeated look he always has when a client is being difficult. He’s barely walked through the door when Elia takes off his headset.

“Oh no, what’s happening?”

Martino turns around, takes one look at Gio and removes his own headphones as well. Giovanni sighs.

“You guys remember the MOOC on coding you worked on at the beginning of February?”

“I wish I could forget it,” Elia replies as Martino nods along.

“Yeah, so the client sent back corrections.”

Martino and Elia groan in unison. Corrections from a client are rarely a good thing.

“How bad is it?” Martino asks from behind his hands as he has resorted to preemptively facepalming in anticipation of whatever Gio is about to say.

“They corrected a couple of terms, that’s not too bad, but… They updated some numbers in the subs with more recent ones, even though that’s not what they’re for. And they added quotations marks. So many. So many quotes that shouldn’t be here. Oh, and also they basically rewrote some of the stuff when they didn’t like the phrasing. I’ll send them to you if you want the details, but it’s way too depressing.”

“So, you’re saying that they took our work and did whatever they wanted with it?” Elia is seething.

“Pretty much. You know, the usual.”

“They understand that it’s our job and that we went to college for this, right?” Martino says.

“Yeah, for five years. Five years, Gio!” Elia continues.

“I know, I was there.”

Giovanni sits down dejectedly on the extra chair that has been in their office since Gio and Elia joined the company for this very purpose.

“Do you want us to put the changes in?” Martino offers because Giovanni looks like he desperately needs a break, maybe even a nap.

“No, I’ll do it. You guys are busy, it’s fine.”

“Remember when people trusted us to know what we’re doing?” Elia asks contemplatively.

There is a couple of seconds of silence before Martino replies,

“No?”

“Yeah, I was looking for an example, but I couldn’t find one.”

Instead, they start reminiscing about all the clients who thought they knew better, gave unworkable deadlines, expected impossible feats and then acted like they were doing them a favor even accepting the files they had sweated over.

“Oh, sorry.”

All three heads turn to the doorway where Niccolò is standing, looking sheepish.

“No, come in, man, we’re complaining about clients.”

He nods understandingly.

“Of course, my favorite thing to do.”

He steps into the office and joins in with some of his own client horror stories. After some more moaning, a silence falls.

“Oh, I forgot,” Gio suddenly says, “I also got good news this time. We heard from the geologists this morning, and they haven’t looked at everything yet, but so far, they’re very happy with what we delivered. So well done, guys. You make a good team,” he adds with an entirely too innocent expression.

“Finally, some appreciation,” Martino sighs, ignoring him.

Niccolò, who had turned to him at the news, clears his throat.

“By the way, I heard it was your birthday last weekend?”

Martino’s eyes widen. His birthday had been a quiet affair with just his mom and the guys. Sure, he gets on well with a lot of people in this department but apart from a few birthday wishes on Monday, nobody had really mentioned it around the office. He has a strong suspicion that foul play may have been involved in spreading the information.

“Yes, it was last Sunday.”

“Well, it’s nothing much, but… happy birthday.”

As he says it he pulls out a small package out of seemingly nowhere and deposits it on Martino’s desk. Martino is both stunned and moved by the gesture.

“Nico, you didn’t have to. Thank you!”

Giovanni and Elia are both craning their necks, trying to catch a glimpse of the present.

“What is it?”

“Come on, Marti, open it.”

Martino takes up the gift and is ready to start tearing at the paper when Niccolò speaks up.

“Actually... I should probably get back. There are still files to conform for the MOOC on fashion, and it’s due next week.”

“But it’ll only take two minutes. And Gio’s here as well, he’s not gonna bitch about the deadline.”

“Excuse me, I never bitch,” Giovanni interjects.

“Don’t worry about it. Like I said, it’s nothing. Happy birthday.”

With that, Nico leaves, and Martino finds himself staring at the door slightly longer than he can probably justify to the others or even to himself. He doesn’t even look at his friends because he can hear Elia snickering, and he knows Giovanni well enough to picture his insufferably knowing smile. Instead, he tears off the paper to reveal a small book. It’s got a colorful cover, and the title proclaims it to be “A Life-Saving Guide to Grammar and Punctuation”. The back cover reveals it is destined for children 9 to 12. A snort escapes him, and he holds up the book for the others to see. They burst into laughter, and Giovanni finally excuses himself to go implement the corrections sent by the client. As soon as he is gone, Martino decidedly ignores Elia’s smirk and puts his headset back on, knowing full well that he is blushing, and that the smile is not going to leave his face any time soon.

 

Once he’s done with his file, Martino heads over to the proofreaders’ office to thank Nico properly. He falters for a second when he sees that Sana, who he had been hoping would be away, is at her desk. Telling himself that at this point, what is one more person having an opinion on his and Niccolò’s relationship, he walks up to his desk and holds up the book. Niccolò’s face lights up.

“Thank you, I’m so touched.”

“You’re most welcome. I hear it’s the officially approved reference for all self-respecting translators.”

“It certainly looks like it. Although it makes me wonder if you’re just trying to make things easier for yourself.”

Niccolò gives him a quizzical look.

“If I get better, you’ll have fewer corrections to make.”

“But, Marti,” he replies, tilting his head to the side, “I thought you were the best.”

“That’s only rumors Gio likes to spread so we can charge more.”

“That explains a lot.”

They fall silent.

“But, thanks, really. You didn’t have to.”

Martino is not sure but it looks like Niccolò’s expression falls ever-so-slightly, and he wonders if he’s offended him.

“I mean, I will cherish it and try to be worthy of it, of course.”

Niccolò nods, but the smile isn’t quite reaching his eyes anymore as he looks down to his computer.

“You better.”

The change in tone is a little unnerving to Martino and he doesn’t know how to fix it.

“Anyway… I’ll let you get back to it, then. Thank you again.”

“You’re welcome.”

It sounds like a dismissal, so Martino leaves, wondering how he could have messed up within the span of such a short time.

 

Later, as Martino is waiting for the bus home, which is late yet again, he opens the book and skims the table of contents for the section on commas. If Niccolò wants to play, two can certainly play. And if he can use Nico’s gift to prove him wrong, all the better. Proving that he read his present might also alleviate whatever made their last interaction suddenly turn so uncomfortable. He opens the book to the right page to find a blue post-it stuck on it. It reads, “Can I treat you to a birthday dinner?” and in a corner, there is a sketch of two cartoonish rocks with big eyes and curly hair. Martino is suddenly seized with the complete and utter conviction that he is an idiot. He almost runs back to the office before he remembers that he saw Nico leave at least twenty minutes before him and that he has no idea which way he could have gone. Of course, Martino doesn’t have his number because they have only ever talked at work. He frantically composes a message to everybody from their department. The replies he gets range from curious to mocking but are all fruitless. Sana, his best hope, remains suspiciously silent. Filippo probably does have his number because he has everybody’s in case of emergencies, but they are all under strict orders not to contact him as he and Andrea are on their way to a cabin on Lake Como where Filippo is planning to propose. Martino tries his luck on Instagram, Facebook, and every social media he can think of, he even Googles him, but Niccolò is apparently a freaking ghost, the only person without a digital footprint in 2019. The urge to bang his head against the bus stop in frustration is strong, and he cannot believe that he may have to wait until Monday to talk to Niccolò.

The weekend feels like the longest of his life. At the very least, it is up there with the time his father left his mother for another, younger woman and the first weekend after Gianluca broke up with him. On Saturday, he sees Elia, Luca and Giovanni who try their best to comfort him only to immediately revert to mercilessly teasing him again as soon as he starts feeling better. By Sunday night, he feels restless and for the first time in his life, he is looking forward to Monday morning.

 

On Monday, the bus gets stuck because of an accident, which makes Martino almost forty excruciating minutes late for work. He texts Filippo to let him know and spends the entire journey nervously twisting the strap of his bag. When he finally makes it to the office, he finds the hallways strangely quiet until he hears a happy rumble which seems to be coming from the conference room. He then remembers the proposal plan and quickens his pace. When people spot him, happy exclamations announce his presence to the rest of the group, and Filippo is soon at his side with a glass of sparkling wine.

“He said yes, Marti!”

Forgetting for a moment that he has spent the weekend only thinking about finally being able to talk to Niccolò, Martino returns the hug happily.

“Congratulations, Fili! That’s amazing.”

As Filippo returns to his celebrations, Martino starts greeting everybody and looking around for a sign of Niccolò. He finds him leaning on the furthest wall, an apparently untouched glass of wine in his hand, looking on at the others celebrating. Martino approaches him and settles himself next to him.

“And where have you been?” Niccolò teases.

“Ugh, there was an accident, and the bus got stuck, I thought we were going to be there forever.”

“But you made it in the end.” With a gesture towards Filippo, who is currently embracing Eleonora, Niccolò adds, “Do you know Andrea?”

“No, not at all. But I think they’ve been together for, like, forever.”

Taking a deep breath, Martino decides to use the opening to broach the subject that had weighed on his mind all weekend.

“So, I know was my birthday was over a week ago…”

Niccolò’s eyes widen as Martino takes out the post-it from his pocket.

“But maybe, you’d still have dinner with me? My treat, for not reading the books I’m given in time.”

A smile slowly blooms on Niccolò’s face, and he suddenly looks more present than he did when Martino joined him.

“It’s the least you can do.”

 

Later that night, as they head out of the Japanese restaurant, both tipsy on sake and each other, when Niccolò starts teasing Martino again about his “all-encompassing love for commas”, this time, he does get to kiss the look off his face and replace it with one he likes much better.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm bitter, so I made up a whole AU about it. But I’ve been told it’s better to write things down than to kill a client, so...
> 
> Obviously not all translation firms work the same way and I have no idea how things are done in Italy, so this is mostly based on personal experience with a little bit (or a lot) of embellishment.  
> Also, the male/female ratio in this department is completely unrealistic.


End file.
